


Symptoms

by Walutahanga



Series: Arrangements [3]
Category: Power Rangers, Power Rangers Dino Thunder
Genre: Aftermath of Violence, F/M, Gen, Mind Control Aftermath & Recovery, Psychological Trauma, Secrets
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-28
Updated: 2013-09-28
Packaged: 2017-12-27 19:57:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,168
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/982987
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Walutahanga/pseuds/Walutahanga
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Trent's first night in Tommy's care isn't without a few bumps in the road.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Symptoms

**Author's Note:**

> So I wasn't going to continue this - I was actually meant to be working on the next chapter of Visitors - but this came out instead. Damn my brain.

It doesn’t take long to set up the guest room. Tommy already changed the sheets earlier that afternoon, and moved all the gym gear down into the Lair where it might be of some use during training sessions. All he has to do is get a blanket and towel from the hallway cupboard and point out where the bathroom is.

Trent stands against the bedroom wall, arms folded. He hadn’t said much on the drive here, but then Trent isn’t one to speak up when something makes him unhappy. It makes him the odd one out of the group; the other three, Tommy can read pretty well by now, but he’s still struggling to get a handle on Trent. He has a feeling this is going to an awkward few weeks while they adjust to one another.

He’s not sure how much attention Trent’s paying; his gaze is shifting restlessly about the room as Tommy lists the rules:

“…and no going outside after seven – I set the security system on around that time, and you might trigger it.”

Trent nods, eyeing the window.

“So the house isn’t like the others’?” He says unexpectedly. “There’s no agreement with Mesagog making it off-limits?”

“The house is over the Lair, so no.” Tommy wonders how much Mesagog told Trent of the agreements between them; Trent is unsettlingly knowledgeable about some ranger matters and appallingly ignorant about others. There’s too much information to fill in at once, so Tommy’s been filling in the gaps as they go and hoping for the best.

Trent has turned away, tracing the window sill with his fingertips.

“Does the security system cover just the doors or all the entrances?”

“None – there’s a two foot barrier extending all around the outside of the house.”

“What about the roof?”

“It’s covered as well, so no sneaking out that way.” He means it as a joke, but Trent isn’t listening, peering out the window. He reminds Tommy of a cat in unfamiliar territory, the way he investigates everything, touching nothing. 

“Can I lock the door?”

“It doesn’t lock. You can close it though, if you want some privacy. Just leave it open when you go out so I know if you’re home or not.” Tommy heads toward the door. “I’m making burgers – they should be ready in about ten minutes.”

“Do I have a choice?” Coming from Conner, it would have been a whine and a complaint. Trent’s tone is neutral. When Tommy looks at him, Trent seems more interested in the wallpaper than him.

“Tonight you do,” Tommy says. He’s found being matter of fact works best with Trent – he’s uncomfortable with overt displays of authority or affection. “Or if you’ve arranged to go out and have cleared it with me ahead of time. But most nights you’re expected to sit at the table and eat a proper meal.”

Trent flicks a smile over his shoulder.

“Okay. A burger sounds good actually.”

The switch in mood is a little disorienting. Teenager, Tommy reminds himself. Trent is trying to orient himself within unfamiliar boundaries and rules; this isn’t the first time he’s had to change homes without any warning.

He leaves Trent to unpack and goes downstairs to make the burgers. Hayley’s left a note on the fridge – “Staying at my place tonight, don’t forget to switch the server back up, banana cake in the fridge”. He smiles, smoothing a hand across her handwriting like he’s stroking it through the fine strands of her hair. Hayley’s the one who’d decided it would be easier for Trent if she was elsewhere tonight. As she pointed out, he was probably unsettled and freaking out a little, and probably not in a mood to deal with more than one person.

Tomorrow morning, once Trent’s acclimated a little, Tommy will bring up the subject of Hayley staying over. He’s not too concerned; the rangers are already aware of his and Hayley’s relationship, and Trent mentioned once that Anton has had several girlfriends since adopting him. It won’t be anything new for him.

Trent appears as the burgers are frying. Literally appears; Tommy doesn’t hear him coming down the stairs. He just glances around and there he is, hovering in the kitchen doorway like he hasn’t decided whether to stay or go.

“Almost done,” Tommy says. “Do you mind setting the table?”

“Okay. The plates are –?"

“Second cupboard to your right. The blue ones. I’m not going to bother with cutlery, but if you want some, it’s in the drawer below.”

Trent takes a seat as Tommy does. He doesn’t pick his burger up straight away, just looks at it.

“Something wrong?” Tommy asks. Trent can’t possibly be vegan – Tommy and Hayley already went over the dietary requirements of a ranger with him, and meat was definitely one of them.

Trent shakes his head.

“No, just thinking – do you have any mustard?”

“In the fridge.”

Trent gets up and returns a few seconds later with the sauce. Tommy already has a mouthful of food, but Trent doesn’t seem to want conversation, squirting sauce onto his burger. Once he starts, that curious hesitation is over. He eats like any ranger Tommy’s ever met; with an intent concentration that pushes out all distractions.

After dinner, he helps wash the dishes without being asked, and makes small-talk that Tommy remembers as a signature of Anton. Politely disengaged, attention elsewhere. Tommy doesn’t push the matter; Trent’s probably tired, and distracted by thoughts of his father.

Tommy feels a little guilty that he’s not more worried about Anton. But then, he’s confident that Anton can take care of himself. He’s more worried about the effect all this is going to have on Trent; it’s a hell of a thing to go through, being a ranger, without adding parental separation at the same time.

That thought makes him particularly angry when he notes the unironed edges of Trent’s shirt, the dirty shoelaces that need replacing and the missing button on his sleeve. He’d vaguely noticed that Trent had been looking a little more rumpled than usual, but then the rangers tended to be always heading into a fight or coming out of one, so that wasn’t unusual. Plus Tommy’s own perceptions had been a little warped with being in morph and unable to sleep all that time; the times he wasn’t itching for a fight, he was going a little stir-crazy. So he’d automatically distrusted his instincts, and now he’s deeply regretting ignoring this.

“You should take a shower before you go to bed,” he says, and Trent pauses, dish in hand.

“Why?”

_‘Because I said so’_ runs through Tommy’s head, but that’s his dad talking, and he has no intention of emulating his problematic relationship with his father during his teenage years.

“Or do you prefer the mornings?” He says. “I find showers make me relax at night; help me sleep better. It’s up to you.”

“I prefer mornings,” Trent says after a moment.

“Okay then.”

They finish putting dishes away and Trent heads upstairs. 

“Lights off at ten,” Tommy reminds him. “Good night.”

Trent shoots him a look he can’t decipher.

“Good night,” he says politely enough, and that’s that. When Tommy checks later, the door is closed, but the light is off, so everything seems fine.

He goes to bed himself not much later, closing his eyes against a vague uneasiness.

* * *

He’s woken by a crash.

_Trent,_ is his first coherent thought. He leaps out of bed and runs down the hall, shoving Trent’s door open.

The beside lamp is on the floor, shattered, bits of china everywhere. Trent’s bed is empty, covers thrown back.

“Trent?” He switches on the light. “Trent?

There’s a flicker of movement in the corner as Trent appears, about two metres from where he was before. He’s crouching, flattened against the wall by the window, eyes glimmering as he watches Tommy.

Tommy’s spine prickles. He knows that look.

“Trent,” he says levelly and clearly. “Are you awake?”

There’s a moment where he doesn’t think Trent’s going to answer, and he’s going to have to find a way to get a sleepwalking ranger back into bed. Then Trent says, very low:

“I’m awake.”

“Okay.” Be calm, Tommy reminds himself. Yelling at him is only going to spook him even more. Focus on the important questions. “Are you hurt?”

“No.”

“What made that sound? Did you break the lamp?”

A small nod.

“I rolled over in my sleep. I’m not use to sleeping in this position.” Trent recites it in this calm, even tone that makes Tommy doubt he’s actually awake, for all that he’s constructing complete sentences.

“Okay. Stay where you are. I’m getting a dustpan and brush.”

His hands are shaking when he opens the hallway cupboard, and it’s not all adrenaline from a fight that didn’t come. Something is seriously wrong here.

He goes back and sweeps up the broken pieces, then puts them in the bathroom waste basket; he can empty it tomorrow morning when he doesn’t have a teenager going through a crisis in his guest room.

When he goes back, Trent hasn’t moved a muscle. He just watches Tommy approach, and Tommy stops. Every ranger instinct is telling him to go forward, to reach out to his agitated teammate, but all his teacher training and reading up on how to handle traumatised teenagers is telling him not to crowd Trent.

He kneels and notices how Trent’s eyes flicker to check where his hands are.

Christ.

He hopes to god this is an after-affect of Mesagog, because if it’s because of Anton –

“I’m not angry,” he says. “Trent, look at me. Look at my face. You’re not in trouble.”

Trent still doesn’t move.

“You’re upset,” he says.

“That’s because I’m worried. But you don’t need to be scared.”

He waits for the instant ‘I’m not scared’ he’d get from one of the others, even when they’re blatantly terrified. It doesn’t come.

“I’m sorry about the lamp,” Trent says. “I’ll pay you back.”

“Don’t worry about it – there’s a reason it was in the guest room. Now I have an excuse to get something better.” He smiles a little, hoping for a response, but it doesn’t come. Trent is still tensed, like he’s waiting for something.

Okay, so humour isn’t getting through. Maybe a more straightforward approach. Trent likes straightforward.

“Look, I don’t want to leave you alone right now, but I can tell I’m not helping. Would you be less tense if I sat outside to give you a bit of space?”

Finally he gets a reaction; a tiny flicker of uncertainty.

“No,” Trent says.

“Would you like me to stay here?”

“No.” Trent swallows. “Over by the wall, near the bed. Please.”

It’s the shaky ‘please’ he tags on the end that almost undoes Tommy. He moves backwards until he’s sitting with his back resting against the wall, looking at Trent from almost opposite sides of the room. Within plain line of sight, but giving Trent a clear path to the door.

“Do you want to talk?” Tommy asks.

“No.” Trent covers his face, takes a deep shaking breath. “Can we just… can we be quiet for a while.”

So Tommy says nothing, stays completely quiet while Trent pulls himself together. A few times his breath sharpens until it sounds like he’s about to cry, but thankfully he stops short of that; Tommy doesn’t think he could handle it if Trent starts crying.

It must be about twenty minutes before Trent’s calmed down. He doesn’t look completely relaxed, but he no longer looks a hair’s breadth from lashing out.

“I’m keeping you awake,” he says eventually, sounding more like his normal self.

“Rangers don’t need much sleep,” Tommy shrugs. “And even if we did, this is more important.”

Trent looks startled by the idea, and Tommy wonders when the last time someone told him that he was important. Not a weapon, or useful, or a potential asset, but important for himself.

You should have been faster on the uptake, he tells himself. You’re older and more experienced; you should have been able to take that fossilliser off him before any damage was done. If Tommy had done that, then his team could have utilised Tommy’s contacts to find a cure, instead of having to chase Trent all over Reefside and fend off Mesagog while their mentor was frozen. So much pain could have been avoided if he’d been a little smarter, a little quicker.

But that’s wallowing in the past, and it’s not going to help Trent any.

He sits up with Trent for another hour, until Trent says he wants to sleep again. He gets him a glass of water, even though Trent says he’s not thirsty, and waits until he’s in bed before turning off the light.

Tommy goes back to his own room, listening out for any more sounds. He hears only quiet, but knows that he’s not the only one getting no sleep tonight. 


End file.
